


How We Swallow the Sun

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: Merlin was just sixteen when he met his best mate’s new stepdad, Arthur Pendragon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Age difference (May/October), infidelity, minor character death

Merlin was just sixteen when he met his best mate’s new stepdad, Arthur Pendragon. Will lived with his dad, and only saw his mum during the summer and winter holidays, and she showed up to pick Will and Merlin that Christmas with Pendragon in tow. Will had hated him on sight, immediately deciding that he was the author of every wrong in Will’s life and resolving to make Arthur pay accordingly—even though Will’s dad had left his mum, and Arthur really was a nice bloke who had nothing to do with Will’s problems. He probably would have been willing to help Will, actually, if Will had ever bothered to ask. 

Merlin listened to Will bitch about everything Arthur ever did because that’s what best mates did, but he never agreed with a word of it. Arthur wasn’t an asshole, and he didn’t have a face like a donkey’s ball sack. Merlin actually found Arthur’s face exceedingly pleasing, and he spent more time than he ever would admit to anybody—even himself—thinking about the lines of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips. He must have been _beautiful_ when he was Merlin’s age, and he was easily the most handsome man Merlin had ever met. He was forty-six, and he looked it, but in a stunning, refined sort of way. He had kind eyes, and he was calmly self-assured, like nothing could shake the foundation of his world. He absorbed Will’s barbs and glares with surprising good humor, laughing away what he could, easily deflecting the rest. 

Despite Merlin’s fascination, or maybe because of it, he avoided Arthur as much as physically possible during the holiday, maintaining a minimum safe distance between them when they were forced to share a room, hiding in Will’s bedroom the rest of the time. Merlin had always been gregarious, and people never made him nervous. But Arthur did. Arthur made his palms sweat and the inside of his cheek tingle. It was all he could not to stare when he was in sight, and Merlin lived in constant fear that somebody would catch him gawking like an idiot. But even Merlin’s best, confused efforts couldn’t save him from the smell of Arthur’s aftershave and soap or the sound of his rich laughter. 

Christmas day itself was the closest thing to hell Merlin had ever experienced. He’d gone with Will because his uncle Gaius was in the hospital, and Hunith had wanted Merlin to have a normal Christmas. Merlin would have rather stayed with her, but a whole holiday with Will had seemed like a brilliant plan. He hadn’t expected Will to get in a one-sided shouting match with Arthur, or Will’s mum to start crying which resulted in nobody watching the food in the oven until it started billowing black smoke. By the time the fire had been put out and Will had calmed down, the day was over, Merlin’s stomach was growling, and his head was pounding. Merlin tossed and turned in the bunk beneath Will, missing his mum, hungry, and trying not to obsess over Arthur. Finally the rumbling in his midsection became too much to ignore, and he slipped out of the room as quietly as he could, intent on a sandwich or two. 

If he’d known Arthur was of the same mind, he would have stayed in bed and suffered his empty stomach. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said as he shut the fridge, jugging several plastic containers and a loaf of bread. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, but I’m not used to anybody else being around and Lena sleeps like the dead.” 

“You didn’t wake me. I was just a bit peckish.” 

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Pull up a stool and let me fix you one of my Pendragon Specials.” 

“I just like jam sandwiches.” 

Arthur looked at him like he was an imbecile, though he couldn’t quite disguise his smile. “That’s only because you’ve never tried one of _my_ sandwiches. Do you like olives?” 

“No.” 

Arthur shrugged and tossed the whole container into the bin. Merlin had opened the tin of olives earlier that night, and as far as he knew, nobody had even had one before Lena cleaned the table and the bulk of the meal back into the fridge. “Then never mind the olives.” 

“You could have had one.” 

“I don’t like them, either.” 

“Will hates them, too.” 

“Hmm. I wonder why Lena always insists on buying them. I’ve never seen her eat one. So I’ve done us all a small favor by tossing them.” 

Merlin smiled a little, shifting forward on the barstool. “I know it’s not really my business, but Will…you shouldn’t take him personally. He’s just angry all the time for no real reason.” 

“That can’t be pleasant to be around.” 

“Nah, Will’s all right. He’s a good mate. He can just be a real asshole sometimes.” 

“I was the same way at his age. Actually, I was probably worse. I ran away more than a few of my father’s special lady friends.” 

“It’s hard to imagine you were worse than tonight.” Merlin sighed. “Honestly, I don’t even know why he hates you so much.” 

The corner of Arthur’s mouth lifted. “Thanks.” 

“Well it’s not like you’re the reason his mum and dad called it quits. His dad’s got a hell of a temper. Like Will’s.”

“Yes, I’ve met Rhys. I’d be surprised if Will wasn’t angry all the time. Do you like cheese?” 

“I like extra cheese.” 

“That makes two of us then.” 

While Arthur concentrated on the sandwiches, Merlin took the time to concentrate on him. Will’s mum was a lovely woman, and Merlin had always been fond of her, but honestly, Arthur seemed a bit out of her league. He couldn’t even imagine Arthur giving her a pull, much less marrying her. How had they met? How long had they been dating before Arthur proposed? How many times had he been married before? 

“You’re sixteen, aren’t you? Like Will?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How many girlfriends do you have?” 

Merlin snorted. “No girls. I can’t even get anybody’s number.” 

“You must be asking the wrong girls.” 

“I don’t ask girls,” Merlin blurted. He slapped his palm over his mouth in shock, but the damage had already been done. He couldn’t catch the words and bring them back. Arthur paused from slicing the cheese, looking up to meet Merlin’s wide eyes. 

“I take it you’ve never mentioned that to anybody else.” 

Merlin shook his head. 

“Not even Will?” 

“He wouldn’t understand,” Merlin said softly. 

“He cares about you. Even I can see that, and I barely know him. He might surprise you.” 

“Thanks but…like you said, you barely know him.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Merlin looked down, his cheeks flushing as he studied his hands. Arthur had only bothered with the light above the stove, and Merlin was grateful for that. “Thank you. And thanks for the present, too. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“It’s Christmas.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t even know me.” 

“What sort of host would I be if I didn’t make sure you felt welcome? Besides, I noticed you didn’t have any other gifts under the tree.” 

“Yeah…it’s been a rough year.” 

Arthur cut his newly created sandwich into two, put it on a plate, and slid it across the counter. “You want to talk about it?” 

“My uncle Gaius is in hospital. He’s been really sick all year, and mum won’t say it, but I think…I’m afraid he’s going to die. That he might die _soon_. He’s the last of her family, except me of course, and I don’t know how to help her.” Merlin picked at his crust. “I think she was just too overwhelmed to worry about Christmas this year. I hate to think of her being alone right now.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Merlin.” Arthur not only sounded perfectly sincere, but compassion practically radiated from his blue eyes. “It sounds like you could use a drink.” 

Merlin smiled a little and nodded. He and Will snuck cheap beer all the time—well, mostly Will. Merlin didn’t like to feel too out of control, and it usually only took one bottle before he started swaying and slurring about how much he loved Will. Will always called him a queer and told him to sod off, but he said it with a pleased smile. Despite his current infatuation with Arthur, and his past drunken behavior, it didn’t occur to Merlin that drinking now would cause any sort of problem. 

Arthur opened a bottle a piece before coming around the counter to sit on the stool beside Merlin. The Christmas tree glowed red and yellow, each splash of light creating a new pattern on the side of Arthur’s face. Their knees touched, and Merlin stiffened, waiting for Arthur to flinch away from him, but he didn’t appear to notice. Merlin could have pulled away, but he liked the contact too much. Especially since Arthur was wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms and the material felt like a dream against Merlin’s bare leg. 

“It’s a shame that you still had to put up with so much drama on your holiday,” Arthur said. 

“I don’t mind. It kind of feels like it was all worth it now.” 

Arthur took a swallow from his beer and looked at Merlin with soft, contemplative eyes. “Yeah, it kind of does. Like your sandwich?” 

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. “It’s delicious.” 

“Better than jam on toast?” 

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. It’s hard to beat the simplicity of a good jam sandwich. I should prove it to you.” 

“How?” 

“I’ll make you one tomorrow night.” 

“Okay. I’d like that.” 

Something about the way Arthur said it made him blush. He dipped his head, hoping to hide his reaction and nibbled on the corner of the bread. It really was probably better than jam on toast. It was just a roast beef sandwich with cheese and, surprisingly enough, mash, with a hint of mustard, but Merlin felt like he could eat this and only this for the rest of his life. Or maybe he just wanted to sit here for the rest of his life, touching Arthur and contemplating the straight line of his nose and the crooked ridge of his mouth. 

“Are you close with your uncle?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin nodded, chewed, swallowed, and needed another bite before he felt like he could begin to explain. “He’s like my dad. He practically took care of me when I was younger because mum had to work all the time. He showed me how…he showed me how to do everything. I think he knows everything. He’s got a huge library of books and you can point to any one, and he’ll tell you exactly what’s inside. When he got sick this spring, everybody thought it was just a cold.” Merlin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking back the automatic tears. These days, it felt like he was always just a few words from losing it. 

“Nobody even knew when my father got sick. He hid it from everybody until it was too late. He collapsed when I was seventeen and died three days later. He never woke up.” Arthur put a firm hand on Merlin’s leg, just above the knee. “I know how much this must hurt. If you ever need to talk to somebody who understands, I’ll be here.” 

“Will won’t appreciate that.” 

“I’ll give you my number. You don’t have to tell him if you think it’ll cause problems. I just don’t want you to think you have to go through this alone.” 

“Thanks.” Merlin shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth, smiling as Arthur gave him a look that was equal parts amused and disgusted. “I’m going to head to bed now.” 

“Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite, and all that.” 

Merlin shuddered at the thought of bedbugs and wished Arthur pleasant dreams. He didn’t breathe again until he was under his covers, listening to Will snore. Arthur was just trying to be friendly. That’s what the sandwich, the touching, the phone number, all of it, had been about. Arthur was a good guy and he could tell Merlin needed more support than he could get from Will right now. It was all perfectly innocent. Noble, even. But none of Merlin’s thoughts for the older man were remotely innocent, and when he finally succumbed to sleep, none of his dreams were innocent either.  
#

Merlin waited until Will was rattling the shutters with his snoring before pushing the blankets aside and padding out of the room. As wretched as Christmas had been, their Boxing Day had passed in relative peace. Will was always happiest when he was eating, and Lena gave him enough food and candy and baked treats to keep him stuffed full and smiling. It probably helped that Arthur had spent most of the day with his sister, Morgana, and so Will didn’t have anybody to yell at even if he was spoiling for a fight. When Arthur returned, he’d retired to what used to be a guest room but was now called the study. Merlin had a perfect view of the study door from his place on the sofa, and he spent more time watching that than he did the telly. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t will Arthur’s appearance or stare a hole through the solid oak. 

Despite Arthur’s invitation to make him a proper jam sandwich, Merlin couldn’t be sure he’d even be in the kitchen again. Or when he would want his late night snack. Or if it was even advisable to try to recapture the connection they shared the night before. It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t think it could happen again—he feared that it would happen all too easily. Developing and nurturing a crush on his best friend’s (much despised and much older) stepfather was easily the stupidest thing Merlin had ever conspired to do. And he couldn’t even rethink this particularly stupid plan because when he stepped through the living room, he found Arthur sitting at the kitchen counter, as if waiting for him. 

“Hungry?” Arthur asked. 

“Quite. I don’t think I got enough at dinner.” 

“It must be the cold weather. I’ve been feeling a bit peckish myself. There’s a jar of orange marmalade in the pantry if you want that. Lena’s sister gave it to her for Christmas.” 

Merlin perked up at the promise of Aunt Marla’s Orange Marmalade. Will, being the selfish little begger he was, hardly ever shared that, even though she always gave Lena about six dozen jars for Christmas and really, there was no reason to be so greedy about it. He rescued the jar from the cupboard with a triumphant smile, already plotting how he could slip it in his bag when nobody was looking. 

“Did you enjoy your visit today?” Merlin asked. 

“No.” 

“Sorry to hear that. Did you have a row?” 

“No, my sister and I don’t row. At least, not the way we used to. Now we just grit our teeth and bear it.” 

“Why do you bother then?” 

“Because she and her son are all that’s left of the Pendragon empire. I…well, I won’t be producing an heir any time soon. If we don’t put up with each other, we won’t have any family left.” 

“I understand,” Merlin murmured, though he didn’t. Not really. He understood what it was like, how lonely it must have been for both of them. But he couldn’t understand why or how two people who loved each other, two people who were lucky enough to _have_ each other, could come to hate the other like that. 

“Have you heard from your mother today?” 

Merlin sighed. “No. I texted her a few times, but sometimes she forgets to turn on her phone.” He stared at the toaster, watching the coils turn red around the bread. He put his face close enough to feel the heat radiating up, and he told himself that’s why his eyes stung. “I just want to see Gaius. How bad must it be, I think, if she won’t even let me see him?” 

“No, don’t think like that. She just wanted to make sure you had a good holiday. Even this house must be better than sitting around at hospital.” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s not too bad. I enjoy the company,” Merlin added, risking a glance up. Arthur was watching him with heavy-lidded curiosity that had his stomach fluttering. Merlin wanted Arthur to watch him like that all the time. 

“Me, too.” 

They stared at each other for another long moment. Merlin knew he was conveying something with his eyes, and his face felt completely out of control. Arthur probably knew every insane thought running through his head, and even though the thought should have been enough to make Merlin die of embarrassment, he found he didn’t mind. He liked that Arthur could look through him and into every fancy. 

The toast popping up startled him from his thoughts and broke the silence between them. Merlin tossed the slices onto a plate and quickly buttered them, the knife scraping over the bread at a stunning volume. What if Arthur wasn’t feeling this? What if it was all in his head? How much of a fucking idiot did he look? 

“How long have you and Will been mates?” Arthur asked. 

“Since second year.” That was good. They should talk about Will. But Merlin couldn’t think of anything else to say, and he still needed to make his own sandwich. If he tried to run away without it, they’d have to give up the polite fiction that Merlin was there for the sake of a snack. So he carefully scooped a few spoonfuls of marmalade out and spread it over the cooling toast, concentrating on that instead of trying to speak. Maybe if Arthur would stop looking at him with those blue eyes, he’d be able to speak like a human. 

When Merlin’s phone rang in his shorts pocket, his first reaction was relief. Finally, something to distract him from the man only sitting three feet away. And then he remembered that it was after twelve, and there wasn’t any such thing as a good phone call after twelve. Nobody called that late at night to have a chat, save Will, and Will was currently snoring away in his room. He gripped his phone with sweaty fingers and stared at the screen, confirming it was his mum. 

“I can’t.” 

Merlin didn’t know why he said that when he could, and furthermore, he _had_ to. He didn’t have a choice, because he couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear her. This late at night, she’d ring until she reached him, and Merlin wouldn’t put her through the hell of dialing and redialing, waiting endlessly for him to answer. Except, he really couldn’t do it. He couldn’t answer the phone and hear his mother tell him that his father—or at least the closest thing he ever had to a father—was dead. 

Arthur must have believed him, because he took the phone from Merlin’s suddenly nerveless fingers. 

“Hi, Mrs. Emrys, this is Arthur Pendragon, Will’s stepdad. Yes, good, how are you? Yes, Merlin is here, but he would like me to speak with you. No, no, he’s fine. I understand. Of course. I’m sorry to hear that. Yes, I’ll have him call you. My condolences.” He lowered the phone and Merlin couldn’t stand to see the pity stamped on his face. “I’m so sorry, Merlin. He never woke up. She said that he was quite peaceful.” 

Merlin felt his face collapse in a hot puddle, tears streaming over the ridges of his cheeks. Arthur didn’t say another word, just pulled Merlin against his chest, engulfing him in a tight embrace that Merlin couldn’t escape from and wouldn’t want to. His heart was breaking and his head was throbbing and he _knew_ Arthur was only trying to be kind to him, that this was a friendly, even fatherly hug. But that didn’t stop Merlin from burying his face against Arthur’s neck. He breathed Arthur in, committing the feel and scent of him to memory, clinging to every second. He kept expecting Arthur to push him away, but Arthur made no move to separate them and the embrace went on too long to be deemed innocent. 

That was when Merlin noticed the dull pressure of Arthur’s erection pressed to his thigh. 

Merlin stopped breathing, too caught up in the thrill of knowing this wasn’t all in his own head. Arthur wanted him, too, and the undeniable evidence of that tented Arthur’s loose fitting pajamas. Merlin lifted his head slowly, searching Arthur’s face for any clue. Arthur lifted his hand, using his thumb to wipe the tears from below Merlin’s eyes. Merlin’s heart slammed against his ribs, the fluttery feeling in his stomach returning one hundred fold and spreading through his entire torso. All the blood in his body flowed to his groin, engorging his flesh quite painfully. 

This was wrong. So wrong, and if Will chose that moment to get a glass of water, Merlin would probably lose his best friend forever. Instead of ordering Merlin to retreat, his brain helpfully pointed out that Will had no reason to go into Arthur’s study, and they could retire there and lock the door. 

“Don’t cry, Merlin. No man’s worth your tears. That’s what my father told me once.” 

“Did you believe him?” 

“No. But I hate to see you cry. So you’ve got to stop.” 

Merlin sniffed. “I’m trying.” 

“Oh, Merlin.” Arthur cupped his cheeks and kissed his cheek, his temple, the bridge of his nose. Merlin quaked every time Arthur’s lips touched him, his body trembling with more intensity until Arthur tightened his embrace. That barely helped. Merlin still shivered, reaching to return the caresses, kissing along the line of his jaw. It was inevitable, the meeting of their mouths. They were drawn together, meeting almost violently with clashing teeth and tongues. Merlin buried his fingers in Arthur’s hair, trying to pull him closer even though Arthur’s tongue was practically sliding down his throat. He couldn’t be any closer, and Merlin ached like Arthur wasn’t touching him at all. 

It was over as quickly as it began, Arthur shoving him hard enough to push his hip into the counter. Merlin caught the edge, gasping and struggling to hold himself up on rubbery legs. Arthur backed up until the stove blocked his escape, then wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s not at all okay.” 

“I’m sixteen. I’m old enough.” 

“You’re old enough to kiss other boys your age. That doesn’t mean I have any right to…to even touch you.” 

“I wanted you to touch me.” 

“You’re upset and you’re…vulnerable.” 

“I would have responded the same way if you’d kissed me last night.” Arthur’s breath caught a little, and Merlin took that as a good sign. He took a slow step forward, hoping he wouldn’t send Arthur running. “I wanted you to kiss me last night. I thought about it…dreamed about it even. Nobody’s ever kissed me before you know.” 

“Go…go back to bed.”

“Arthur, don’t. Please. I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Then wake up Will,” Arthur snapped, cheeks flushing and eyes suddenly blazing. 

“Fine.” Merlin marched out of the kitchen and nearly reached the corridor before Arthur spoke. 

“Wait.” 

“Yes?” Merlin asked, unable to mask the hope in his voice. 

“I’ll drive you home in the morning. Be ready to go after breakfast.” 

Merlin nodded, his heart dropping when Arthur didn’t ask him not to go. 

#

When Will found what happened, he immediately offered to accompany Merlin back to London. Merlin tried to smile in gratitude, wishing there was a way he could tell Will that his need for a friend didn’t trump his desire to be alone with Arthur. His salvation came from Lena herself, who insisted that Will would _not_ be cutting his holiday short because she still had plans. Merlin and Arthur both kept their heads down, resolutely eating their breakfast while Lena and Will engaged in a battle of wills that everybody knew Lena would win. By the time they left, Will had been reduced to a moody silence and Lena was slamming dishes in the kitchen without any regard for their fragility. 

Five minutes after they pulled away from the house, Merlin decided that Will and Lena’s enthusiastic shouting was preferable to the heavy silence between him and Arthur. He had bags under his eyes and looked as exhausted as Merlin felt, so at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn’t the only one who’d been awake all night. They didn’t talk at all for the first hour, though Merlin was desperate for anything that would pull him from his thoughts of Gaius. He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, and that chafed at his soul. He had no reason to think Gaius woke up before he passed away, but what if he had? What if he looked for Merlin? What if he’d died alone? 

An anguished whimper escaped his throat, and he struggled to swallow the wave of tears that followed. There had been nothing left unsaid between them, no words of love or gratitude that Merlin should have uttered but refused to. He’d said everything, more than once, and of course Gaius had known how much he meant to Merlin. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially since Merlin still needed Gaius. 

“Merlin. Are you okay?” 

Merlin sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’m fine.” It just felt like he was breaking apart. He turned up the heater, hoping the hot air blowing on his face would help stop his trembling. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Arthur responded by putting his hand on Merlin’s knee and giving him a gentle squeeze. Merlin was tempted to push Arthur away the same way he’d pushed Merlin the night before. Except, if he did that, then Arthur wouldn’t be touching him anymore. Merlin slid forward in his seat a little, slumping low and wishing Arthur would move his palm further up his thigh. 

“Are you gay?” Merlin asked without looking from the windshield. 

“Bisexual, though I know people say that’s the same thing.” 

“Have you been married before?” 

“No.” 

It was rude to ask why moved him to marry now, so Merlin hedged to a different question. “How long have you known Lena?” 

“We met this past February at an event for work. Started to date. Felt like it was time to settle down.” 

“Sounds romantic.” 

“I rushed into it,” Arthur said softly. Merlin waited for some sort of elaboration, but he didn’t offer any. 

“How do you rush into anything when you’re forty-five? You’d think you’d learn a bit of patience by then.” 

Arthur chuckled. “You’d think so. Maybe instead of getting wise, you just learn how to make bigger mistakes as you get older.” 

“You think marrying Lena was a mistake?” 

“I don’t know.” 

If he didn’t think so before, he probably did now that he’d met Will. God, he should have insisted that Will come back to London with them. What had he been thinking? Lena would have given in if he’d insisted, and sitting in the backseat and rolling his eyes through Will’s snide comments was one hundred times preferable to this. He didn’t know why Arthur was being so honest with him, or why he was even asking these questions. Maybe he wanted to poke at somebody else’s bruise to avoid thinking about his own sore spots. 

“It’s just the stress of the holiday. You’ll feel better after the New Year and everything gets back to normal.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

They lapsed back into silence, and without the distraction of Arthur’s voice, the earlier regrets crept back into the front of his mind. He should have stayed with Hunith. He should have stayed at Gaius’s bedside, holding his hand and praying and talking. Maybe if he’d been there, Gaius would have sensed him somehow. If their positions had been reversed, Gaius would have never left him, Christmas or not. 

“I wish I could say something, Merlin.” 

“What did you do when your father died?” 

“I drank. And I was angry for a long time. Angry at him for leaving me, and angry at him for working himself to death. Morgana got me through the worst of it. That was back when we got along.” 

“I can’t get drunk. I don’t think my mum would approve of that.” 

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t suggest that anyway. It hardly improved my situation.” 

“But it took your mind off things.” 

“Sometimes.” 

Merlin would already give anything he owned for the magic elixir that would wipe the guilt and regret from his mind. Something that would just sweep it out like a giant broom so he could have a few hours of peace. He sure hadn’t been thinking about Gaius the night before when Arthur kissed him, but he didn’t quite have the courage to suggest that course of action. He didn’t think Arthur would go along with it, anyway. Not in the light of day when anybody at all could see them. 

“And then it got to a point I realized I didn’t need it,” Arthur continued. “I missed him. I still miss him. But given enough time, things really will heal over.” 

“I don’t want to wait for this to heal over. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much…I wish I’d been there.” 

“I know it seems like that would have made a difference, but I was there when my father died. It just means you have different regrets. You’re thinking you want just five more minutes with him, right? But even if you had it, those five minutes wouldn’t be enough because what you really want is for him to be alive forever.” 

“Is that so wrong?” 

Arthur sighed. “No.” 

Merlin folded his arms and sank deeper into the seat, eyes closed. Even when he wasn’t looking Arthur, he was intensely aware of the other man. Like he had been all week. Every sense seemed attuned to him, and a part of Merlin’s brain was dedicated to providing regular updates on Arthur’s position and actions. He gave in to that part of him, enjoying the way Arthur’s aftershave tickled just beneath his nose, reliving the kiss again and again until his chest felt tight. He was half erect, and the way he splayed in the seat probably made that fact more than obvious. He cracked open one eye to study Arthur, more than a little pleased to see that Arthur’s attention drifted from the road to Merlin’s pants often. 

“Did you jerk off last night?” Merlin asked. 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what? I’m just making conversation.” 

“What happened last night was wrong. I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have touched you at all. It wasn’t appropriate.” 

“I don’t see what was inappropriate about it. I’m old enough for consent, and there’s definitely no question of my consent.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s right. Even if I wasn’t married, men my age shouldn’t even be looking at boys your age.” 

“Maybe not, but I don’t mind if you look at me.” 

“You’re only saying this because you’re hurt right now and I’m a distraction.” 

“No, I…I wanted you before last night. I’ve been trying not to think about it and doing my best to avoid you, but…I wanted you from the moment we met.” 

“Merlin…” 

“What? It’s true. Are you going to tell me that since I’m sixteen, I don’t know what I want? If so, save your breath.” 

“I wasn’t going to say that. But it doesn’t matter. We still can’t…” 

“Did you only kiss me last night because I was vulnerable?” 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“It’s a simple question. Yes or no.” 

“It’s _not_ a simple question, Merlin. What do you want me to tell you? That I’ve been thinking about you every night for the past week? That I’ve been fantasizing about you?” 

“Have you?” 

“Of course I have,” Arthur said raggedly. “A minute hasn’t gone by without me thinking of pulling this car over and fucking you right here on the side of the road. But I’m not going to do that.” 

“Even though that’s what we both want.” 

“Especially since that’s what we both want. I’m married, Merlin, and you’re too young. So this, whatever it is we feel, we have to just ignore it.” 

It hurt to hear that and know Arthur meant every word. It didn’t matter that Arthur wanted him, it still felt like a rejection. Merlin buried his head in his hands, never feeling more alone in his life. Will was ninety minutes behind them, and ahead of them was nothing but black grief and unshed tears. Nothing was ever going to feel okay again. This ragged pain in his chest would grind deeper and deeper until it settled there permanently. He’d have to live with it for the rest of his life, until he forgot this terrible, cold day and nothing remained but the fossils of his pain. 

Arthur touched the back of his neck with warm, comforting fingers. Merlin jerked away, not wanting Arthur to touch him at all if he couldn’t do it properly. But the need for contact eventually overwhelmed everything else, and he relaxed against Arthur’s hand, the tension leaving his shoulders as he exposed the back of his neck to the soft caresses. 

They finished the journey to London like that, Merlin hunched over with his eyes closed, Arthur driving with one hand and using the other to stroke him like a beloved pet. It was nothing. Barely anything at all. It was inadequate and unsatisfying, useless in every way. Merlin didn’t feel better because of the contact, and it wasn’t helping him forget what he couldn’t have. At the same time, it was everything. It was more than Merlin could have realistically hoped for, and he cherished every second of it. The fingers on the back of his neck had to compensate for all the kisses they couldn’t share, all the long, slow explorations they couldn’t indulge in, all the caresses that didn’t belong to them. It was torture, but maybe they deserved it a bit for the destructive urge they both possessed. 

Arthur stopped outside of the flat Merlin shared with his mother. She apparently wasn’t home. Their car was missing and the windows were dark. He could invite Arthur up and nobody would ever be the wiser. 

“You could come up.” 

“I can’t, Merlin.” 

“Please. Nobody would ever know.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay.” 

Merlin sighed and pushed the door open. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” 

“My offer still stands. You can call me if you need anything.” 

Merlin paused and half-turned to meet Arthur’s eyes. “I think it might be best for both of us if I lose your number. I don’t think it’ll do me any good, do you?” 

Arthur’s lips thinned. “It’s up to you. If you think that’s best.” 

“Thank you. For driving me down and for listening and everything.” 

“Good luck, Merlin.” 

A strong wind picked up just as Merlin stepped out of the car, ripping the door from his fingers and slamming it shut. The cold stole his breath, and he put his head down against the bracing wind, watching the bits of newspaper and rubbish roll and tumble down the pavement as Arthur pulled away. 

**Part 2**

Arthur was fifty when he met his nephew’s new boyfriend, Merlin Emrys. Mordred hadn’t been home from University for two years, and Morgana held a huge Christmas dinner in his honor. Arthur had no choice but to attend, even though he only knew two people there. Well, three. Despite the short amount of time he spent with Merlin four years earlier, he thought it was fair to say he knew the younger man quite well. 

“Uncle Arthur, this is Merlin.” 

Arthur smiled his best smile and extended his hand politely. He didn’t expect to feel anything at all, but as soon as their palms touched, something sharp and wicked stabbed at him. His body and mind were at instant odds, common sense telling him to release Merlin’s hand and step away, his flesh begging him to pull Merlin closer, wrap his arms around Merlin’s slighter frame, and never let him go. 

“We’ve met before,” Merlin said. “Through my mate, Will.” 

“How’s that?” Morgana asked. 

Merlin frowned. “He was married to Will’s mum.” 

“Oh, yes, that Lena woman.” 

Merlin’s frown deepened, but Arthur interceded before the younger man could do anything as foolish as challenge Morgana in her own home. “How is Will?” 

“Last I heard, he was doing well.” 

“You don’t talk to him?” 

Something unreadable flickered across Merlin’s face. It transformed him for just a moment, made him seem older and sadder. It was gone almost as soon as it happened, his easy smile returning as his fingers interlocked with Mordred’s. “Not anymore.” 

Arthur wanted to ask just when and how that happened. Merlin and Will had been as close as brothers. Just watching the two boys together for a few minutes was enough to prove that. But their falling out must have been old news if Mordred didn’t recognize Will’s name, or realize just how his boyfriend and his uncle were acquainted. 

“How did you two meet?” Arthur asked. 

Mordred looked up at Merlin with adoring eyes. "In Literature of the English Renaissance. Nobody else could read Marlowe like him." 

 

Merlin smiled at the compliment, and Arthur had to admit the two boys made quite a striking couple with their dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. Superficially, they seemed to have quite a resemblance, but after only a few seconds, Arthur began noticing the very real differences. They both had blue eyes, but Mordred's was a darker shade, and his eyes were larger, more piercing. Merlin's light blue eyes always seemed to be smiling, while Mordred often had the appearance of trying to will somebody into a pillar of flames. He got that from his mother. Mordred's hair was darker and thicker, while Merlin's was cut short and spiked up around his head in delicous dishevelment. Arthur wanted to run his fingers through Merlin's hair--in fact, he'd had that desire from the first moment he met Merlin, four years earlier. 

 

"Mordred asked me to read to him for our first date. Only, I didn't know it was a date," Merlin added. 

 

"Actually, we were on our sixth date before Merlin clued in." 

 

"I just thought we were really good friends." 

 

Arthur laughed at that because Mordred did, but somehow he doubted it was a joke. Mordred was very much his mother's son, and Arthur had no trouble believing he steamrolled Merlin into a relationship that Merlin didn't even know he wanted. 

 

Or maybe it was a joke. Maybe Merlin had been coy and wary, and Mordred had persisted until he won the prize.

 

"And how long have you been together?" 

 

"Officially it'll be a year next week. That's why I thought it was a good time to bring him home to meet the family." 

 

"And I'm so glad you finally did," Morgana cut in, her eyes lingering on Merlin with an appraising glance. "Honestly, Arthur, he talks about Merlin all of the time. I felt like we were close personal friends before we ever met." 

 

Arthur forced his smile to return. It was difficult to look at Merlin. Memories slammed through him, triggering an array of emotions from guilt to acute regret to relief. He often replayed that day, went over it again and again, wondering if he could have done anything differently. His greatest regret was driving away that day. He was fifty years old, had cut a wide swath of destruction through England with his foolish and ill-advised relationships, he had a difficult to impossible relationship with his only sister, and he lied to himself more than any of the sycophants surrounding him ever could in a lifetime. But driving away from a sixteen year old boy, leaving him standing in the cold, shivering from grief and want, was easily the worst thing Arthur had ever done. 

 

Arthur couldn't take it back now, but he wished he could apologize for it. Merlin dating Mordred had to be some great cosmic joke. Something like this couldn't just happen to him randomly. He was being punished for a past crime--maybe his treatment of Merlin. Maybe he was being punished for even wanting Merlin in the first place. For wanting him _more_ after he broke down in tears, every weakness and vulnerability on full display. Arthur had seen that, and like a predator had begun salivating. At the time, he hadn't felt like some sort of predator. At the time, he'd only wanted to make Merlin feel better. Something about the sight of Merlin's tears tore him apart, and all he could think about it was stopping them. Whatever it took to make Merlin smile again, he would do. 

 

"I wanted to bring him around sooner, but he was shy." 

 

Merlin smiled. "More like nervous. When your boyfriend tells you that his mother just happens to be one of the most famous, wealthy people in the world, that's a lot of pressure." 

 

Morgana laughed. "I'm not, but thank you for saying so." 

 

Merlin's attention shot back to Arthur, and their eyes met. The din from the party fell away, and Arthur felt like he was trapped. There was something there. Arthur could sense it and maybe Merlin could, too.

 

"I didn't realize your sister was Morgana LeFey." 

 

"I guess that never came up in conversation," Arthur said, like he couldn't believe it slipped his mind to mention that his nearly-estranged sister was about a thousand times more successful than him. "How long are the two you planning to stay?" 

 

"Until the holiday is over," Mordred answered. 

 

"Oh, won't Merlin be returning home to visit his family?" 

 

"My mum passed away last year," Merlin muttered. 

 

"Oh. Oh my god, Merlin, I'm so sorry. What happened?" 

 

"She ignored her own health problems when she was taking care of Uncle Gaius. By the time she went to the doctor due to pain, the cancer was already pretty advanced." 

 

"Oh, Merlin. I had no idea." 

 

Merlin shrugged his shoulders back. "She's in a better place now. With Gaius and my dad." 

 

"Do you want a drink?" Mordred asked, a trifle anxiously. "You look a little red." 

 

"Actually, I am feeling a bit warm. Maybe I'll nip out for a bit of air." 

"Air sounds good," Mordred said. 

Merlin carefully extricated himself from Mordred's clutch. "Why don't you get some more egg nog and I'll meet you back here in five minutes." 

"I'll come with you," Morgana said to her son. "I've got to check on the food." 

If Mordred was annoyed at the brush off, he didn't give any indication. In fact, Arthur had never seen the young man smile so pleasantly. Arthur had been braced for a full tantrum, but Mordred was still smiling when he walked away. Merlin caught Arthur's eye, holding it for the space of a heartbeat before turning to make his escape. Arthur followed him without a second thought. 

A rare, somewhat slushy, snowstorm was sweeping through London, but none of it was sticking to the ground. The flakes clung to Merlin’s hair and his cheeks, wetting them like counterfeit tears. They were alone on the porch, everybody else more than happy to stay within the warm safety of Morgana’s home. Merlin leaned on the far rail, partially turned away from Arthur, though he could still see his profile and the shine of Christmas lights reflecting off his damp skin. 

“I didn’t know,” Merlin said. “He never mentioned his dear old uncle Arthur.” 

“I didn’t know, either.” 

“It shouldn’t matter. It’s been a long time.” 

Maybe for Merlin. At that age, four years felt like an eternity. Why shouldn’t it? It was a full fifth of Merlin’s life. But for Arthur, four years was no more than a blink of an eye. Merlin walking away from the car was a fresh memory, and it still hurt in the same indefinable way. 

“Right. And nothing really happened anyway.” 

“Right.” 

Arthur took a step closer even as he told himself he was not going to put himself within temptation’s reach. 

“I guess you divorced Lena?” 

“Yes, two years ago. I wasn’t being fair to her. She was just…good for my image.” 

“Did she know that?” 

“She did after I needed to give her a reason to agree to the divorce. Has it been that long since you spoke to Will?” 

Merlin nodded. “After I left for uni, I didn’t keep in touch with him. I couldn’t.” 

“Was it because of me?” 

“In a way.” 

Arthur wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself standing at Merlin’s side, not quite touching his shoulder as he leaned over the same railing. 

“If I’d called, would you have answered?” 

Arthur took a deep breath, resisting the urge to look at Merlin by concentrating on the swirling snow. The wind blew it in a slow waltz, first to the right and then back the other way before gently depositing them to the garden where they quietly melted away. 

“Yes. I wish you had. I could have helped you.” 

“I wanted to.” Merlin’s voice was thin, as chilled as the wind blowing over them. “But I thought you were still married. I couldn’t see you and…I couldn’t trust myself.” 

“Do you trust yourself now?” 

Merlin huffed his breath and pushed away from the railing. Arthur stared out ahead, resolved to let him go, let him walk away. Again. If Merlin was going to be with his nephew, he’d better get used to seeing Merlin’s back. Anything less than that would be the height of selfishness, and Arthur couldn’t be so greedy with somebody as young as Merlin. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. 

Merlin stopped. “For what?” 

“For kissing you and—“ 

Merlin shook his head. “That’s not what I wanted an apology for.” 

“But that’s the apology you deserve. It doesn’t matter how much I want you, I should have never done that.” 

“Want?” 

“I still want you, Merlin. As soon as I saw you, I knew nothing changed.” 

Merlin looked over his shoulder, body slowly turning to face Arthur fully. His arms jutted from his side at awkward angles, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“Mordred’s going to be looking for me.” 

“Are you staying here?” 

“Yeah. In one of the guest rooms. Mrs. LeFey was happy to have me stay, as long as I didn’t move into Mordred’s room.” 

“There’s a place we could meet later. If you wanted to get caught up.” 

“I don’t know, Arthur. I…Mordred…I care about him.” 

“We don’t have to do anything.” 

“No, we don’t _have_ to do anything at all. That doesn’t mean we won’t.” 

“Anyway, there’s a room in the cellar. If you go down through the kitchen, there’s a door on the right. I think it used to be a bomb shelter. Nobody will bother us down there.” 

“Arthur…” 

“ _If_ you change your mind,” Arthur said crisply, “then I’ll be waiting down there after everybody retires for the evening.” 

“If I change my mind,” Merlin repeated before ducking back into the house. 

When Merlin disappeared from sight, Arthur realized he was clenching his hands into tight fists and forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Did Merlin still want him? Arthur didn’t know the answer to that question. His desire for Merlin tainted every word and reaction, coloring Merlin’s reactions with the brush of Arthur’s lust. But if he failed to show that night, Arthur would have his answer. 

#

Morgana served a sumptuous and elaborate dinner which resembled art more than a meal. She introduced each dish by detailing just how rare and wonderful the ingredients were, preening noticeably as her guests oohed and ahhed at the appropriate points in her canned speeches. Arthur barely heard any of it. He was too busy watching Merlin, studying the other man over the top of his glass every time he raised it to his lips. Merlin’s skin glowed from the wine, which flowed so freely that nobody ever saw the bottom of their glass, and his laugh was as light as the snow wafting outside the window. Merlin listened more than he contributed, letting Mordred do most of the talking after Morgana had said her peace about the menu. 

New guilt crashed over Arthur. It was different from the old guilt. The grain was finer so it reduced him all the quicker. Why didn’t he just leave Merlin alone? He only saw Morgana once or twice a year, and Mordred even less than that, so the chances were very good that he’d not see Merlin again until the following Christmas. By then, it should be easier. He didn’t expect the passing of a year to reduce his desire for Merlin—which seemed to be burning brighter and hotter with every passing second—but at least by then he’d have more time to get used to the situation. 

Where was all of this coming from anyway? Was he having his midlife crises? Was he trying to recapture his youth by falling in lust with a boy young enough to be his son? That was the only explanation that made any sense, but for one thing. Merlin had so much more to offer than just his youth. He had a spark, something that made him glow from the inside out. Some form of magic Arthur never expected to see in this world. He felt jaded and exhausted, struggling under a mountain of regrets and bad decisions, and then there was Merlin. Young and exquisite, beautiful even when he was crying, perfect and Arthur wanted to clutch him close and never let anything touch him. It wasn’t love, but Arthur could fool himself into believing it was, properly motivated. 

By the time they all broke away from the table, Arthur was feeling overstuffed and sluggish. Merlin and Mordred filled their glasses with eggnog and ate fruitcake, leaning against each other, slipping tiny morsels of food between each other’s lips and smiling. Arthur’s heart twisted, and he cursed himself for being twelve kinds of fool. He was an old, blind idiot. A fatheaded sod for being so besotted with the boy. Late, after most of the guests departed, Merlin and Mordred leaned against each other as they ascended the stairs, drunk and laughing, stealing kisses between each stair. Arthur supposed that was his answer. 

“Aren’t you going to bed, Arthur?” Morgana asked when Arthur poured himself a fresh glass of sherry. 

Arthur settled more comfortably in the chair. “No.” 

“Dinner was lovely, don’t you think?” 

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Arthur said without looking up from the fire. He was settling in for a good, long brood. The topic of that night’s session would be how spoiled little brats didn’t deserve Merlin. He had an entire volume of crimes Mordred had committed against man, God, and country. What had he ever done to earn the right to kiss Merlin or hold him? What had he done that made him more worthy than Arthur, other than be born thirty years later? 

“Yes, I believe I have.” Morgana settled in the chair across from him, the golden light from the fire taking at least fifteen years off her face. “I’m glad you could make it, Arthur. I think it’s time to put our petty squabbles behind us.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yes. We’re getting much too old for that sort of thing. Don’t you think?” 

Arthur nodded. “I do. I can’t even remember why we started fighting to begin with.” 

“Because you’ve always been a spoiled bully,” Morgana said promptly. “But then, I suppose I’ve always been a spoiled little bitch, so we never had the chance to be friends.” 

“I guess we’re both getting too old for that sort of behavior.” 

“Or we’re both old enough to learn to ignore it.” She rested her chin on her hand and looked into the fire, sighing softly. “I hadn’t realized how old I’m getting until Mordred announced he planned to bring Merlin home with him. Imagine it. My baby old enough to bring strange men home to meet his mother.” 

“Do you like him, then?” 

Morgana lifted one shoulder. “He seems like a good kid. But…I can tell you like him.” 

“Yeah, I thought he was a good influence on Will when we met.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Morgana.” 

She leaned towards him slightly, no more than an inch or two, but it felt like she was taking up all the space in the room. “I can _see_ the way you look at him, Arthur. I’m willing to cease hostilities between us, but if you do anything to hurt my son, I’ll destroy you.” 

“I’m surprised that you think so little of me, Morgana.” 

“I think deep down inside you’re still that spoiled bully.” 

“And to the surprise of nobody, you’re still the little bitch.” 

Morgana’s laugh was as sharp and sparkling as broken glass. “Watch yourself, Arthur. You might confirm all my worst opinions of you.” 

“Your worst opinions have been confirmed for years. And I really don’t care what you think of me.” 

“But you will care if you’re cut off from the family money.” 

“And here I thought we’d get through the whole holiday without you threatening to cut me off. It is rather trite, Morgana.” 

“But it’s so much fun. I can see why men get such a kick out of controlling the purse string.” 

“I’m sorry, but you won’t have the chance to yank it closed this year. Besides, it’s not as though I’d be destitute.” 

“No, but you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself in the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed. Anyway, I know you won’t be living on the street. That’s not where the pleasure in the threat comes from.” 

“Uther’s been dead for thirty-three years, Morgana.” 

“Knowing he loved me more still must sting just a bit.” She rose, as graceful and willowy as a queen. Arthur looked at her from beneath his lashes, not bothering to hide how much he hated her in that moment. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.” 

She drifted out of the room, looking like a Victorian ghost in her long white dress, her black hair flowing behind her. Her threats had been stale and irritating, but they hadn’t been idle. Every second he spent under that roof put him at risk for his own destruction. He had no doubt Morgana would be true to her word if he were the author of Mordred’s heartbreak. 

“Is she always so pleasant?” 

Arthur jumped at the sound of Merlin’s voice, spilling his mostly untouched sherry all over the back of his hand. “God. Don’t scare me like that. I could have had a heart attack. I thought you were in bed.” 

“I was waiting in the other room. Mordred passed out as soon as we got upstairs.” 

Arthur paused from his attempt to clean up the liquid soaking into his shirt and pants. “You seem…sober.” 

Merlin grinned. “I didn’t have as much to drink as the rest of you lot. I just pretended to keep up.” 

“Why?” 

“So I’d still be in my right mind when I came downstairs to see you. I thought you’d be waiting for me in the cellar.” 

“I…I thought you wouldn’t be meeting me.” 

“I couldn’t think about anything else.” 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” 

“Yeah.” 

They paused long enough to grab their coats before slipping to the car. Arthur expected Morgana around every corner, grinning her knowing grin, knowing she finally had Arthur dead to rights. But Morgana was safely sequestered in her bedroom, and everybody else was tucked in their bed with visions of sugar plums in their heads. Snow dusted Merlin’s hair and the back of his neck, and Arthur wanted to bury his nose against his hair and inhale his scent mingling with winter. He wanted to lick the melting flakes from his jaw and pull him tight into the curve of his body. 

The car vents puffed cold air in their faces as Arthur started the engine. Music burst from the speakers and Arthur turned the dial without thinking, plunging the car into silence. Which meant he was acutely aware of every subtle change in Merlin’s breathing and every time he inhaled like he was going to say something. Arthur expected him to speak any second, to tell him to turn the car around and return him to Morgana’s. Arthur didn’t even know where they were going. He was just driving until he found a likely place to stop. 

That turned out to be an abandoned Tesco lot. Arthur parked in the corner under a busted lamp and left the engine idling, welcoming the heat finally pouring from the vents. Now that they were alone, Arthur didn’t know what he wanted to do. Well, he knew what he wanted to do. He’d fantasized about precisely this moment at least a thousand times since he last let Merlin walk away from him. 

Merlin moved first, while Arthur was debating with himself whether he’d become a terrible cliché, leaning into Arthur’s personal space. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, turning his chin to find Merlin’s mouth _right there_. Merlin reached over and turned the key. 

“I promised myself if I ever got another chance, I wouldn’t blow it.” 

Arthur barely had a chance to process that statement before Merlin caught his mouth in a slow, questioning kiss. It wasn’t anything like the first kiss they shared—tasting of salt, feverish, clumsy. _I’m older now_ , the kiss told him, _and I know what I’m doing._ Arthur believed him, eagerly answering Merlin’s silent inquiry. His tongue was soft and slippery, smooth and sweet as the sherry. He tasted vaguely of alcohol, vaguely of snow, but mostly, he tasted like Merlin. 

“God, Arthur,” Merlin murmured, cupping Arthur’s cheek with chilly fingers. Arthur caught his wrist and turned his head, catching the cool skin with the tip of his tongue. He licked and kissed each one in turn before letting Merlin guide his mouth into another long kiss. Arthur cupped the back of Merlin’s neck and plunged his tongue past his lips, searching for more of his sweet taste, hungry for the tiny moans escaping Merlin’s throat. He’d never touched anybody who left him so completely undone. Merlin stripped him down to his most basic desires, removing layer after layer of Arthur’s life until his core was revealed. And at his core, he only wanted this inexplicable, beautiful, fascinating young man. 

The windows fogged around them, the film over the glass growing thicker with every unheeded minute. They were both breathing hard but their gasps and pants were even louder in the tightly confined space, echoing off the cold panes of glass and warming their already flushed skin. Arthur felt tiny drops of sweat rolling over the back of his neck, catching at his collar and making the material stick to his skin. His cock ached, the throbbing only intensifying the more Arthur tried to ignore it. He shifted on his narrow seat, turning his body at a more awkward angle, his other hand clawing at Merlin’s hip, trying to pull him closer. Right onto his lap, if at all possible. 

“There’s not enough room,” Merlin muttered. 

“Backseat?” 

Merlin nodded his agreement, but he didn’t pull his mouth from Arthur’s neck, and Arthur didn’t release his hold. He tilted his head back against the cool window and closed his eyes, swallowing under the scrape of Merlin’s teeth. Sparks showered through his torso and settled in his stomach, falling together and merging into longer threads of heat that reached to his cock. He needed to feel Merlin’s mouth everywhere, but there was one thing he wanted more. The same thing he wanted since almost the beginning—though a very large part of him would always be ashamed by that fact. 

“I want to fuck you,” Arthur choked out. Merlin responded with a soft growl and let his teeth catch on Arthur’s Adam’s apple. “Let me fuck you, Merlin.” 

“I have a condom in my pocket.” 

Arthur’s cock jerked against his too-tight pants, and he caught Merlin by the back of his head, pulling him back to study his face. “Really?” 

“Yes. I told you, Arthur.” 

“I know what you told me but…God help me, what about Mordred?” 

“Why are you worried about Mordred?” 

“Because he’s…you’re his boyfriend and I’m his uncle and…Christ. What a mess.” 

Merlin touched his forehead to Arthur’s. “Do you want me?” 

“More than anything.” 

“Have you thought about me at all in the past four years?” 

“I’ve thought of little else.” 

“Then fuck me, Arthur. Like we both want.” 

“I just want you to be sure.” 

Merlin slammed their mouths together in a short, hard kiss. “Fuck me, please. Don’t make me ask again.” 

Arthur nodded shakily and reached for the lever on the side of the chair, letting the back drop, putting Arthur in a fully reclined position. He unzipped his pants without looking away from Merlin, pulling down his zipper to reveal his stone-hard shaft. Merlin leaned back, unzipping his own pants and pushing them down off his ankles before pulling the condom from his jacket. Arthur found he had difficulty breathing while Merlin tore the foil and prepared to slide it down Arthur’s shaft. The first touch of Merlin’s fingers felt like ice against his flushed skin, but he barely noticed. Merlin’s face was creased with concentration as he secured the condom and bent to guide the head to his lips. 

“Oh…oh Merlin…” He might have preferred to feel Merlin’s hot, silky mouth without the prophylactic in the way, but he was not going to complain about the way Merlin’s lips stretched around his shaft. And he was definitely not going to complain about the way Merlin’s tongue danced over his head, tracing maddening, wet patterns on the rubber. Arthur jerked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Merlin’s mouth. The other man groaned and sank lower, until his nose pressed against Arthur’s zipper. “Fuck, I need you. I haven’t thought about anybody but you in four years.” 

Merlin moaned and lifted his head, sucking hard on Arthur’s tip before pulling away with a soft pop. He didn’t say another word before repositioning himself, swinging his leg over Arthur’s hips, arching his back so he wouldn’t lean too heavily on the wheel. Arthur caught his breath at the first press of his cock to Merlin’s tight pucker. The heat was already making him delirious, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying too much, from promising Merlin everything he owned in the world. 

“Arthur…oh…fuck…oh fuck…that’s it…” Merlin dropped his head back and hissed as Arthur’s head burst past the tight muscle. His passage was tight, his inner walls already clenching at Arthur and making it almost impossible for him to gain another inch. He should have grabbed oil or something from the kitchen. He should have, but they’d left in such a hurry, and he hadn’t been thinking. He’d certainly never thought something like this would happen. 

“Am I hurting you?” Arthur choked out, fearing the answer, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop now even if Merlin answered in the affirmative. 

“No.” 

“Oh thank god.” 

“Don’t stop. I still want to feel you in the morning. So I know this is real.” 

What could Arthur do except give Merlin exactly what he wanted. He pulled Merlin down so they were chest to chest, clutched the back of his head, and pushed his tongue between Merlin’s teeth. With his other hand, he guided Merlin back to meet his rising hips. One hard thrust and he was completely buried, burning, dying in the heat constricting around him. Merlin tried to shout—would have shouted if Arthur wasn’t silencing him with his own mouth. His cock jerked against Merlin’s walls, and Arthur had to ride out the sudden wave of pleasure until he was breathless, suffocating. 

“Fuck…fuck Arthur…” Merlin bit at Arthur’s jaw before burying his face against his damp neck. “So fucking good.” 

Arthur wanted to pound into Merlin’s tight ass until they were both screaming, but he didn’t exactly have that option. Instead, Merlin rocked in tiny, shallow strokes, clenching around Arthur in the most maddening way. It was so much slower than what Arthur’s burning blood cried out for, but it was perfect, too. Within seconds, Arthur lost the ability to speak, reduced to half-moans and low, eager grunts. Merlin echoed him when their lips weren’t sealed together, both hands braced against Arthur’s flexing chest. 

They were in a perfect cocoon, the brittle world far, far away, out of sight and out of mind. He forgot about Morgana and Mordred, forgot the Christmas party responsible for bringing him and Merlin together again. All he knew was the weight of Merlin’s body and the flutter of his muscles as he tensed and relaxed with each slow stroke. 

“You feel so good, Arthur. So fucking good. I can’t…I can’t take it…not for long…” 

“Don’t stop,” Arthur forced out. “Don’t stop, Merlin. This is perfect…perfect…don’t stop. Waited too long for this.” 

Merlin nodded, but Arthur could see the strain on his face from holding himself back. His muscles popped beneath his thin skin, and Arthur couldn’t resist kissing his beautiful throat. He would die from this if Merlin didn’t stop, and Merlin had no intention of stopping. He touched the side of Merlin’s face with trembling fingers, smoothing the damp hair away from his skin, tracing the curve of Merlin’s ear with distinct wonderment as Merlin shifted back, fully sheathing Arthur’s cock for the twelfth, twentieth, hundredth time. 

He could feel Merlin struggling to keep himself under control. He could feel everything—his hunger, his desire, his need, all of it seeping into Arthur with the heat of his flesh. Arthur slid his hand from Merlin’s hip to the curve of his ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh as Merlin rocked forward. 

“Do what you need to do, Merlin. I want to feel you come.” He didn’t just want to feel Merlin’s body quaking around his. He wanted to see Merlin’s face with the last of his control wiped away, and wanted to be covered in the sticky liquid and his sweat, wanted to be marked of it, wanted to have Merlin imprinted on his skin. 

“I wish you were my first,” Merlin whispered, his hips rolling faster. 

Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed, thinking back to the night he’d kissed Merlin. He had been ready to drag Merlin into his study, bend him over the couch, and fuck him all night. If he’d had his way, Merlin’s first time wouldn’t be slow and careful but hard and fast, a complete surrender to all of the darker impulses Arthur harbored when he looked at Merlin. He would have made sure that Merlin would never be able to fuck another soul without thinking of him. 

“Me, too,” Arthur breathed. 

Merlin gasped, and then fresh warmth splashed over Arthur’s stomach and shirt. Merlin tensed, clenching down tight and shuddering with each fresh wave of pleasure. Arthur didn’t want this to end. If he could, he stave off his orgasm until dawn, letting Merlin bring him right to the peak without tumbling over the edge. But Arthur didn’t have the luxury of time, and Merlin was squirming and flexing and biting his lip and making this _sound_. This high-pitched, keening, breathless sound that should have been coming from Arthur’s throat. He clutched at Merlin, holding him as tightly as he could while the world stretched to the breaking point and snapped back all at once, pulling Arthur taut and then breaking him in two. He pumped his hips until the condom was full, moaning with each burst of come until he was finally spent. 

“I think I ruined your shirt,” Merlin murmured. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Do you think anybody noticed us here?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“What do you care about?” 

“Fucking you again.” 

“That’s fine, but I don’t think we should do it here.” 

Arthur sighed and gently pushed Merlin’s head to his shoulder, holding it there. “Where should we do it, then?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you happy with Mordred?” 

“I don’t know. He…we get along and he loves me.” 

“I’ll understand if this was just…if you were just trying to work me out of your system.” 

“Is that what this was to you?” 

“No. I don’t know. No.” 

“What if you took me home, and I crawled into Mordred’s bed, and I let him fuck me now that I’m good at stretched? Would that bother you?” 

“Yes,” Arthur answered between clenched teeth, more than simply _bothered_ by the thought. He could think about it logically and tell himself Mordred’s bed was where Merlin belonged. He could even ignore his emotions, as confusing and incoherent as they were. But his reptile brain was having none of it, and it screamed at Arthur to hold onto what was his, to keep Merlin, to _claim_ Merlin if possible. 

“Then take me somewhere else?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No. Maybe we’re just drunk and stupid. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and you never stopped thinking about me, and I…if we’re meant to be, I don’t want to waste another four years. Or another four minutes, for that matter.” 

“I’ll take you to my flat.” 

Merlin grinned like he’d been waiting to hear those words from Arthur all night. They carefully untangled themselves, and as Merlin settled back in the passenger seat, Arthur realized that his shirt was indeed ruined. They didn’t speak while they sorted themselves out, wiping away what they could, zipping and adjusting their clothes. Arthur moved methodically, waiting for Merlin to speak up and say he’s changed his mind. But he never did.


End file.
